Disappearance of Colonel Boutin, a French traveller--Efforts of
Lady Hester Stanhope, for investigating his fate--Mission of Abd
el Rasák from Mahannah to Lady Hester--Manners and character of
the Bedouins--Story of Mustafa Aga, Khasnadár of Mûly Ismael,
and his wife--Departure of Abd el Rasák and his companions.
I found Lady Hester in tolerable health: but her mind was at this time
wholly intent on avenging the death of Colonel Boutin, a Frenchman,
whose name and destination will be seen by referring to the occurrences
in March of the preceding year, and who had been made away with in
his journey from Hamah to Latakia. As one of the most useful purposes
to which Lady Hester turned the influence which she enjoyed in this
country is connected with his fate, it would be inexcusable were this
affair not to be related at length.
Colonel Boutin departed from Hamah for Latakia, accompanied by his
Egyptian groom and by another Mahometan servant. He had written to
M. Guys, French consul at Latakia, to intimate that, to avoid the
circuitous route of Geser Shogr, he should cut strait across the
mountains inhabited by the Ansárys.[80] He slept at Shyzer, departed on
the following morning, and was heard of no more.
For many weeks, M. Guys supposed that, like other travellers, he had
loitered on the road, or had turned aside to view objects which had
taken his attention; but, at last, when no information was received
of him from any quarter, rumours of his death began to spread, and
reached Lady Hester’s ears. She expected, for some time, that an
application would have been made to the pasha to order an inquiry
into the circumstances which attended his mysterious disappearance;
but, when it was evident that no steps had been taken, she resolved
to investigate the matter herself. For she considered that the common
cause of travellers, without regard to nation, required that robbery,
and much more murder, should not be suffered to pass unpunished; and
she respected Colonel Boutin individually as a man of distinguished
abilities.
For this purpose she resolved on employing Signor Volpi, the Italian
doctor, who had been left to supply my place on my departure for Egypt.
Signor Volpi, it was reported, had been originally bred within the pale
of the church, but, taking advantage of the tumults of the French
revolution, had danced round the Tree of Liberty, and had quitted the
cell for the more lucrative employment of the law: which, together
with his country, he had finally deserted for physic and Syria. There,
not meeting with the encouragement which he thought he merited, he had
recourse to his pen, and was for some time clerk to Signor Catsiflitz,
English agent at Tripoli. Lady Hester had, during my absence, observed
in him a great knowledge of the bad side of men, and she pitched on him
as a proper person to go to Hamah to find out what he could respecting
Colonel Boutin’s fate.
She had retained in her service, as muleteer to the house, ever since
her journey to Bâlbec, a Drûze named Sulymàn, a hardy and resolute
fellow, fit for dangerous enterprises. This man she resolved to send in
the very track, through the Ansáry mountains, that Colonel Boutin was
supposed to have pursued, accompanied by Pierre, who was well adapted,
under a feigned object of pedlary or of buying oil, to pass as a poor
Christian gaining a livelihood by such traffic.
These three persons, so instructed, had already fulfilled their
missions: and, on my arrival from Egypt, Lady Hester was disposed to
have made me acquainted with the progress of this affair, and to have
requested my help; when I, perhaps too officiously, took upon me to
dissuade her from prosecuting it; saying that the French consuls were
bound to sift it to the bottom: whilst she, in taking so active a part,
was exposing herself, in her excursions about the country, and even
in her rides, to the vengeance of these mountaineers, who, there was
every reason to think, were as likely to have emissaries sworn to their
deadly purposes now as of old.[81]
The only effect of my exhortation was that she never said anything more
of the matter to me, and steadily pursued her own humane purposes. I
shall dismiss the subject for the present, and will, in the order of
events, recur to it hereafter.
During my absence in Egypt, Lady Hester had been visited by M. Otto de
Richter, an enterprising Russian, who was travelling through Syria: he
afterwards died at or near Ephesus.
Mrs. Fry, Lady Hester’s maid, fell ill of an ague. On the 6th of
November, there arrived at Meshmûshy two Bedouins of the tribe of
Mahannah, sent by him with a letter to Lady Hester, which contained
much complimentary language and inquiries after her welfare. Their real
object was to get money, which the emir, always needy, was always using
shifts to obtain. One of the Bedouins was named Abd el Rasák, and was a
relation of Mahannah’s.
Abd-el-Rasák was an entertaining person, disposed to answer all my
questions; and I now satisfied myself on some subjects touching the
customs of the Bedouins, which, from my little knowledge of the
language when in the Desert, I could not understand. Those which
related to the victor and vanquished in battle seemed dictated by
motives of humanity, to disarm the strong and ferocious, and give the
prisoner a chance of freedom. They are comprehended under the word
_dukhýl_, a term for which (from not having a clear notion of its
meaning) I cannot find an equivalent in the English language.[82] It
comprehends the pleas and rights of hospitality.
Sometimes a Bedouin loses all his camels by a marauding party; and,
finding himself reduced to poverty, resolves to recover his possessions
by dukhýl. For this purpose he quits his home, and seeks, unperceived,
his enemy’s encampment. He secretes himself near the path by which the
despoiler must pass. He bears with him a ball of twine (_guzzle_),
which he spins as he stands. His enemy passes him, and he throws the
ball of thread at him. If, as it unwinds, it hits him, the thrower is
safe, and he then claims his property; but, if it misses, his enemy
turns on him, and, unless he can escape, he loses his liberty or his
life.
Again, if one Bedouin, under any circumstances of peril or
supplication, can approach so near and unexpectedly to another, as
to tie a knot in his keffyah (the silk handkerchief which generally
envelops his head), there is no favour that he may not claim: likewise,
if the captured can at any time enter into the tent of the captor,
or eat of the same mess with him, he is entitled to his liberty. It
may be said, with all these strange usages, that no Bedouin is secure
for a moment in the enjoyment of his plunder, or in his right over
his prisoner. But let it be recollected that he has many ways of
immediately getting rid of the one and the other, so as never to be
exposed by any possibility to the consequences of dukhýl; and likewise,
that, under all circumstances, if any of the women or children, or if
he himself, sees a prisoner seeking to obtain his ends in this manner,
he has but to cry _nefah_, which destroys the intended grace.
The character of the Bedouins is not destitute of traits of great
magnanimity. A certain Ali, in a dispute, killed Ershyd, an ancestor of
Mahannah’s. Ershyd’s son, Fadl, was bound to revenge his death, and he
steadily sought for an opportunity. The murderer, knowing how certainly
his hour would come by Fadl’s hand, unless he could for ever shun him,
absented himself in a distant tribe for many years. Tired, at length,
of banishment, he deemed life not worth preserving on such terms, and
resolved to present himself before his foe, and see if he could not
prevail on his generosity so far as to obtain his forgiveness.
One night, Fadl was in the division of his tent set apart for the
women, when he heard a footstep and a man cough. “Up, fellow!” he cried
out to one of his slaves; “there is a guest in the tent; make some
coffee.” He rose himself, went to him, and in the accustomed friendly
terms of the Arabs welcomed him. It was very dark. The slave raked the
ashes, and threw on some roots to make a blaze. Fadl looked at his
guest, and stared, like one thunderstruck; for he knew Ali. “Ali!”
said he. “It is even so,” replied the stranger, “and your sword is
hanging over me.” Fadl was, for a moment, like one convulsed: but by
degrees he calmed his emotions, and, when he found himself master of
his expressions, he said, “Make yourself easy; you are no longer my
father’s murderer, but my guest;” and he forgave him.
Fadl’s friends assembled round him; they said to him, “Can you admit
your father’s murderer into your tent? Kill him, and revenge your
wrongs.” But Fadl replied, “Shall I kill the man who judges so nobly of
me?” He called his secretary, and bade him write an engagement to pay
every year to Ali and his descendants 50 piasters, which continued to
be done until the time that Abd-el-Rasák related the story.
The following story will show from what trivial beginnings their
deadly feuds may sometimes arise. Sidad is a village between Hems and
Carietain, on the road to Palmyra. The inhabitants are Christians, and
therefore, generally speaking, considered as fair objects of oppression
by the Bedouins, who often vex them greatly. Their insulated situation
in the Desert thus obliges them to depend on themselves for protection,
and hence they have a martial and independent character unknown to the
Christians of towns.
An Anizy, who was in a house at Sidad, wishing to fill his pipe, asked
his host to lend him his tobacco-bag. “Stop,” said the host, “there is
no tobacco in it, but I will go to my neighbour and borrow some.” He
went out, and soon returned with his bag apparently replenished, and
handed it to the Bedáwy; who thrust the pipe-bowl into the bag, and
drew it out full of dry dung. “Do you mean to affront me?” said the
Arab, his bosom swelling with indignation; “_Kata ardak_--we are
twain from this moment.”
He mounted his mare, and rode off. When he arrived at his tents, he
assembled his friends, and explained to them the gross insult that had
been put upon him, inviting them to assist him in revenging his cause.
An opportunity was not long wanting. One of the Sidad caravans was
reported by the scouts of the Bedouins to be on its way to Palmyra. The
Bedouins rode forth and attacked it. The caravan was well armed, and
made a stout resistance, but at last was dispersed and plundered. How
many of the same caravan were killed or wounded, Abd-el-Rasák would
not tell me; but Madame Lascaris, who happened to be on her return
from Palmyra in the same caravan, and who gave me some particulars
about it, said that all the men were stripped naked, and in that way
entered Sidad. Hamed, son of Mahannah, was at the head of the party;
and, knowing Madame Lascaris, respected her and her baggage; but her
intercessions could do nothing for saving the effects of the caravan
in general. She said that the attack and resistance were of short
duration. One Bedáwy was killed by the fire; and, before they could
load again, the Bedouins rode in upon them; and she saw two or three
who resisted speared, but the others ran or surrendered. For the one
Bedáwy killed, Mahannah demanded from the village of Sidad the price
of his blood; and, to save themselves from a perpetual feud, they paid
2,000 piasters.
In one of my conversations with Abd-el-Rasák, I inquired after Mustafa
Aga Duz Oglu, khasnadár of Mûly Ismael, the man who was under my
care for a palsy at Mar Giorgius, or Dayr Hamýra. “He is dead,” said
Abd-el-Rasák. “Did you know his wife, Aysha?” I asked. “She is dead,
also,” cried he. “Heavens! and how?” I rejoined.
His story was as follows:--“You know she was once Mûly Ismael’s
concubine (_saryah_), and that he gave her, when tired of her,
in marriage to Mustafa Aga. He, poor fellow, was seized with apoplexy;
and, after lingering some time, died. As he had amassed vast sums in
his employment of treasurer, she feared that these, now become her
own, would be taken from her by the Mûly, under some pretext, and she
resolved to secure them by poisoning him.
“It is necessary to inform you that she had a paramour, one of the
_deláty_ dragoons, who instigated her, it was thought, in her
foul purposes.” “I recollect such a man” (I observed) “coming to
Dayr Hamýra whilst I was there, and seeming to be on a very familiar
footing with Aysha.” “It is the same,” replied Abd-el-Rasák. “It was
concerted between this man and herself that the poison should be
bought at Aleppo, in order not to excite suspicion in Hamah. When it
was procured, she endeavoured to bribe Merján, one of the Mûly’s black
slaves,[83] promising to give him 500 piasters, if he would hand the
Mûly a cup of coffee in which she should have previously put something;
which he had agreed to do.
“The Mûly came one day to see her. Aysha made the coffee with her own
hand, and contrived, unperceived, to drop in the poisonous powder.
Merján took the cup, and, whilst in the act of presenting it to his
master, felt the terrors of a guilty conscience, and suddenly dashed it
on the ground. ‘What do you do that for, you son of a w...?’ said the
offended Mûly. ‘Effendim, there was brandy in the cup.’ ‘What!’ said
the Mûly, whom a life of reverses had made readily suspicious, ‘there
was something else: tell me, instantly, or I’ll have you bastinadoed to
death.’ Merján, terrified, confessed the plot. Aysha was immediately
seized and strangled, and then hanged upon a tree. The slave was
rewarded by a large sum in money, and (which to an Osmanly is even more
agreeable) was clad in a splendid suit of new clothes.”
Signor Volpi, coming at this time to Meshmûshy, dined with the
Arabs and me. He still retained his European habits, and could not
eat without a knife and fork. Long custom had now reconciled me,
whenever there were Mahometans present, either to a spoon or even to
my fingers, like them. Signor Volpi expressed a wish to see how the
Bedouins ate in the Desert. I laid aside my spoon, and begged the
Arabs to put themselves at their ease and do the same. They readily
complied; and, forming the rice into pellets, they delivered it into
their mouths quickly, and with more ease than with a spoon, which
to them is a troublesome article. Not suspecting that there was
anything extraordinary in their manner, they attached to my request
another meaning: they thought that I was willing to seal the bonds of
friendship between us still closer, than merely eating with a spoon out
of the same dish together. He is determined (they whispered to each
other) that it should be complete: _byn-el-yedayn_--“between both
hands” will alone satisfy him.
On the 10th of October, the Arabs took their leave, furnished with
letters to Mahannah; and, as to themselves, their pockets and even
their wallets were filled. For the Bedouins, indeed I may say all the
Turks in general expect, on quitting you, to have their tobacco-bags
replenished, provisions given them, and to have nothing to dread from
the contingencies of the day. I accompanied them to Abra, where they
were to sleep: and, whilst we were smoking in my cottage, I made
Abd-el-Rasák sit still, that I might endeavour to sketch his costume.
Such was his wish to oblige me, that I saw huge drops of sweat running
down his face from the fatigue of keeping the same posture: and he did
not change it, until, out of pity, I begged him to do so. The next
morning they took the coast road to Tripoli.
I was, for many reasons, compelled to question the accuracy of Volney’s
account of the sensations experienced by the Bedouins on entering large
towns, and approaching the sea. First of all, they are a race in whom
you never can witness marks of sudden emotion, whether of astonishment
or otherwise: and, in the next place, these very Bedouins, who came
from a more inland Desert than those whom Daher brought to Acre,
still led me to think, in answer to my questions, that there were as
few sights for them as for any one else. For had they not heard people
often enough describe a ship, the sea, and whatever wonders they are
thought to be ignorant of in the Desert?